Janus
by Cantare
Summary: "But you ate the fruit of the dead, and you are no longer fully alive," he continued matter-of-factly. She held the empty glass in both hands. "Half of you belongs to the underworld."
1. Chapter 1

It was a month before her marriage to Aladdin when the ghoul came back for her. He had waited for an opportune moment, a day when Genie and Eden were away from Agrabah, to snatch her from the palace and take her to the underworld. Crowing in mad glee along the way, he declared that he would rule hell with her as his first consort.

The aura of death grew ever more oppressive as they passed through the many gates of the netherworld. Each time their surroundings grew darker, the memory of color fading further, the air growing ever more stifled and still, until the act of drawing breath seemed a violation of nature.

Time was not present in the depths of hell. Perhaps she had been gone less than an hour, or perhaps it had been years. She clung to the hope that Aladdin was not far behind, that he would surely intervene in time. There simply had to be an escape, she had to look for it, and whatever sickening ritual the ghoul had in store for her, this was not the worst she had lived through—

But it was, because when he commanded her to eat the fruit of the dead, she was alone in her fight to escape. When he forced half of it down her throat after she threw it back in his face, no one was there to stay his hand.

When she felt her body begin to fade, the breath in her lungs dissipating, vision unveiling to behold the full cacophony of grotesque spirits that surrounded them as spectators of the unholy ritual, she realized that death was no longer the end of torment, but the beginning.

The remaining half of the fruit was clutched in his bony palm. He ordered her to take it, to seal her fate as a permanent slave in hell. She stared back with the indifferent silence of the recently dead, drowned so quickly beneath shock and horror and grief that she felt nothing.

At that moment, the fruit and the hand that held it burst into flame. The brilliance of the fire was blinding, as if she were seeing the sun for the first time after living in a dungeon for years. The explosions that followed set the audience of the dead around her to wailing and scattered chaos.

She finally recognized the color of the flame as it consumed the ghoul's entire form and burned him to nothing. Cold, smokeless blue.

x.x.x

She did not remember the journey out of the netherworld. When her senses fully returned, she was sitting in a dark stone room without windows, lit by torches of the same eerie blue. She could breathe again, and her skin was no longer pale and flickering in a half-dead existence. She thirsted intensely for water.

A gloved hand offered her a drink. She looked up at him, the man who had brought her out of hell, still unable to speak. She feared the sound of her own voice.

"Ayam Aghoul is gone, permanently," said the sorcerer, a man who had always been her enemy. She wished, not for the first time, that she was dreaming, and that she would wake up before she had to reply.

"But you ate the fruit of the dead, and you are no longer fully alive," he continued matter-of-factly. She held the empty glass in both hands. "Half of you belongs to the underworld."

Her voice was cracked and thin, though the thirst was gone. "What…what does that…"

"It means that you must leave the living world for half of each year and remain in the land of the dead." He paused, gesturing to the stone enclave around them. "This room is one of several in my Citadel that sit on the border of the two worlds."

The questions she would inevitably ask refused to stay in order, proliferating beyond her imagination.

"My kingdom…I can't be…there has to be some…where is Aladdin?"

"Patience," was the cool reply. "Not even a jinni can pull a soul out of hell. Only I can. So we struck a deal."

"Where is he?"

"Waiting outside, demanding to see you. He won't believe me when I tell him you can't go above and he can't enter here. For you, it is physically impossible. For him, it would mean death. Only necromancers of my caliber can pass freely between."

She shut her eyes, waiting one last time to wake up. Slowly the futility of that hope settled in her veins; she could not tell if her heart still beat.

"Tell me what he agreed to."

* * *

**A/N:** For 2013 I've decided to post more often even if I'm not totally happy with the quality; I think that sometimes the lack of interaction with readers only deepens the inertia that I often find myself in.

I've had this story on the backburner for a long time since I wasn't sure exactly where it was going. I still don't have a very clear idea, but I'm open to suggestions.


	2. Chapter 2

Aladdin had been desperate. She understood that. If he had delayed even a second longer in brokering the deal with Mozenrath, she could have been lost to the living world forever. Thus he had signed the sorcerer's contract without time to digest the full implications.

The parchment appeared in Mozenrath's hands as he read her fate to her.

"Ultimate authority over Agrabah rests with me. Your father and whoever he might choose to succeed him now, given your predicament, must obey me in all matters. But as I have no interest in the day-to-day governance of a minor magicless kingdom, I find little reason to intervene with the current state of affairs. You may rest assured that the destruction of Agrabah is no longer an item on my agenda."

If he meant to provoke her with dark humor, he would get nothing. She wondered if the numbness would ever recede, or if she was permanently immersed in a state of cold disbelief. Studying her expressionless face, he seemed to grow more serious as well.

"You might count yourselves fortunate that since the last time our paths crossed, I have reconsidered my priorities in your favor. After the lot of you left me to die without my gauntlet or a method of escape, I could have pursued revenge. It would have been sweet indeed, and I daresay I could have concocted something worse than what you have just been through. But the extra expenditure of power would only have sped up my own death. No, I've decided on practicality before anything else. Your jinni—one of them, at least—is required to supply me with a certain measure of their power every month. Enough to sustain my life and allow me a few more liberties in how I wield my power.

"Beyond that, it is due time that I gained a seat among the rulers of the Seven Deserts, to receive the honor and respect accorded a sultan. As to the questions of trade and settlement, the Land of the Black Sand will be as any other kingdom. Soon I will open my borders to the surrounding nations, and those worthy and capable enough will be allowed to settle on my land. Under our agreement, Agrabah will play an instrumental role in this. As to my pursuit of magic, Aladdin and the jinni will do much of the job for me. I have only to tell them what I require and they will do their utmost to retrieve it.

"There are less significant terms thrown in for good measure, but there you have the basics. Aladdin will hold up his side of the deal whether you are here or in Agrabah. I don't think we need to discuss the consequences for reneging on the bargain."

"They should have let me die," she said. Something, a spark of the hatred she used to feel, lent strength to her words. "You can't have Agrabah. I'd rather die than see you—"

"It's too late, Princess. The deal was between Aladdin, your father and I. They obviously valued your life above the kingdom's freedom. That should be a flattering thought."

"No." Had she been her normal self, she would have fought him at the first sentence and tried to escape. But the cold would not release her from its grip. It was all she could do to speak evenly. "The deal is off."

"I'm afraid your demands carry even less weight than before. It might take a little getting used to."

"No, I won't let this happen," she said with more force, rising to face him directly. But she felt as weak and incorporeal as a wisp of smoke, and could hardly keep on her feet.

"It's too late," he repeated as if speaking to a slow child. The shade of false compassion in his tone only infuriated her further. "Don't worry. I have considered all contingencies and set the necessary safeguards in place. The greatest risk at the moment is a popular revolt. The jinnis should be protection enough for your father and the street rat, but in case they are not, I have secured the palace with my magic."

"You're not protecting them," she said. "You're making them your prisoners."

He shrugged. "See it how you wish. What matters is that peace is maintained. Not an easy feat given the fickleness of the rulers of the Seven Deserts on the whole. Think of it this way. Because of you, there will be no war between our kingdoms. I will defend Agrabah against its enemies. The Black Sand will come into its own as the Eighth Desert and will finally begin to flourish, without acting in aggression unless provoked."

Every word he spoke could be twisted in meaning for his own ends. He was not a man of truth. He was a liar and a monster who cared only for his own gain and the continued increase of his power. She didn't even know if Aladdin was still alive, if he was really outside waiting for her. She didn't know if Agrabah was still standing or if this was all a pleasantly spun tale he had fed her for his own amusement.

"I want to see Aladdin," she said.

He chuckled pityingly. "I've already told you that he can't come in here, and you can't go out. Even if he were here, you would be invisible to him."

Pen and parchment appeared in midair. "This will have to suffice these six months. I imagine that with the speed at which the street rat reads, he'll be able to savor your letters all the longer."

The point of the pen was tempting. He saw her glance at it and smiled slightly, as if challenging her to try. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides and remained there. Though she dug her nails into her palms, scraping at the skin, she could feel no pain.

The instruments clattered to the floor when he finally left in a swirl of smoke. She stared at them for a long while before picking them up and beginning to write.


	3. Chapter 3

At first she thought the lack of sunlight would drive her mad. He reminded her that she no longer needed it. She could see just as clearly in the dark, now her natural element.

She did not sleep. Could not sleep, without the aid of his magic. He obliged her with nightly spells, and potions when he was away. She kept time with hourglasses that marked days and hours. She always awoke precisely after eight hours, completely alert, with no trace of dreams.

Food was no longer a necessity either, though she still forced herself to eat and drink. She would not become a ghost or like one of his undead servants. He saw her attempts to cling to her humanity and only smiled, studying her as one would a rare species.

Outside of the letters she received from Agrabah, he was her only company. She hated him, the indifference and amusement with which he treated the whole situation. She hated that she came to depend on his presence, waiting for the telltale signs of smoke when he would appear from somewhere else in the Citadel or the surrounding deserts, where there was sunlight and fresh air and reminders of life. She hated that she asked for no pity and he gave her none. Sometimes he was gone for days at a time and she was alone only with the books he had left her, wandering restlessly between the few rooms she could access and memorizing the patterns of the stones. Once he offered to summon a spirit for companionship. She was desperate enough to consider it, until she realized all the spirits he could control were of the netherworld or even darker places. He merely responded that she should not be so prejudiced against her own kind.

One day she asked him how she might die, to escape this half-life of torment. His smile faltered then. Full death would mean returning to the place where she had eaten the fruit, and that would become her new prison. He guessed that she would still prefer the Citadel and his dreary company over that. The horizon of her thought elongated into the future, to the years and years she had left to live here, not aging for half of each year, waiting for all her loved ones to die before her, only to face eternal separation from them in the end anyway. What difference did it make whether she died now or later?

"There is a chance things will change," he said, the first time he had ever admitted uncertainty in his abilities. There was a faint light of challenge in his eyes as he thought over the possibilities and the costs. She wondered again if this were all a game to him.

x.x.x

The worst day in those first six months was when dignitaries from Agrabah visited for the first time, the start of negotiations for settlements in the Land of the Black Sand.

He mentioned it casually over breakfast, which he more often than not took with her. She stood and demanded that she be allowed to see them, knocking over her plate and glass. He narrowed his eyes at her tone, the first sign of irritation he had shown since they had begun this arrangement.

"How many times must I tell you? You can have no contact with anyone from the living world."

"I just want to see them!" she cried. "There must be a way! Just let me talk to them, or at least see their faces somehow."

"Impossible," he said, and stood to leave. She took his arm and held firm.

"No. It can't be impossible, the way you're always going on about your powers. There is a way for me to see them, even to be normal again, and you're just not telling me." She was shaking, but her grip tightened when he tried to pull away. "This is your revenge, isn't it? This is the best kind of revenge for you. To separate me from Aladdin and my kingdom, to have us all beg you for mercy while you refuse to grant it!"

He pushed her away forcefully, regarding her with disdain. "I see that you're deaf to reason at the moment. Perhaps I've been too accommodating. Some time alone might remind you of your place."

He left with a curt spell and she screamed at the empty room until her voice broke. The flood of silence afterward was almost too much for her to bear. She climbed atop the table, pressing her ear to the ceiling in a futile attempt to hear any trace of sound from the rooms above, if her people were even in the Citadel. There was nothing, not even the sound of rats. Nothing lived here. Nothing moved without his consent.

She slumped down by the bed she did not need, an ordinary object she had taken for granted all her life, now wholly unnatural and a sickening reminder of the lies she clung to.

She wrote more in the next few days of isolation than she had in an entire month.

x.x.x

She kept those letters hidden, crossed out Aladdin and her father's names and addressed them to no one.

x.x.x

She lost count of the days she was alone. But she would catch the occasional mark of his presence. New books on the shelf, longer ones this time, histories of magic and ancient kingdoms renowned for their power and divine lineages. Sometimes she would walk into a room to find food on the table. She always left it untouched, and sometime later it would disappear.

The silence became a part of her. She read the new books to fill most of her time. Pored over every page that had something to do with death, the underworld, the magic he practiced. She understood little of it at first, but was determined to learn. Her goal of understanding the truth was an anchor. She was aware that he might have placed these books here precisely to convince her that he was right and nothing could be done after all. But she also knew not to overestimate his regard for her, that he would not spend so much time and energy fabricating lies in ancient tomes.

She found herself returning to an old foreign myth time and again. A man who had ventured into the underworld to retrieve his wife, and had come a hairsbreadth from succeeding when he turned back out of doubt and lost her forever. As a child she had merely thought it a tragic love story. Now she saw it as a warning against distrusting Death, the eventual master of all things.

She left a letter for him on the table one day, and went to lie down, eyes closed and sleepless. When she opened them again, he stood casually leaning against the wall opposite her.

"You have a week remaining. As far as I am aware, your long-delayed wedding is set to begin soon after your return to Agrabah." A faint smile. "I've sent a small present ahead of you."

Hope surged in her chest and she was on her feet, breathing hard as if she needed air. "A week? Is Aladdin coming for me?"

"No need for the waste of old-fashioned travel," he said, amused at her excited countenance. "As soon as the time comes, I'll send you directly to the palace."

One week until she could escape this prison. Six months had seemed an eternity. She only hoped that the next six months would be longer.


	4. Chapter 4

The torrent of color and sound and sunlight in Agrabah was almost too much for her to bear. She shielded her eyes and steadied herself against Aladdin's strong embrace, trying to reorient herself in the throne room that had once been so familiar. From the deep continuous rumble in the palace floor, she knew that the entire city had gathered outside for her arrival.

"You're back," Aladdin whispered in her ear, pressing his lips to her face, her brow. "It's okay. You're safe with us now."

She hugged her father for a long time, shutting out the scrutinizing, uncertain gazes of the court. All of Agrabah had come to see if their princess were truly still alive, or if she had returned a living corpse, or worse. The sober weight that had settled over the whole kingdom was almost tangible in the air. The weight of being ruled by another, a foreigner with unholy magic and a history of destruction. A man who held their princess hostage as the lock on their chains.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Her father made speeches before the masses. Aladdin led her to stand at the balcony for a short time, for the people to see that she was indeed alive and in one piece. Servants washed and dressed her with the utmost care. She remembered each old familiarity as she encountered it – the scent of fresh flowers, the feel of new silk against her skin, her reflection in a mirror under natural sunlight, the pungent taste of spiced tea. The warmth of Aladdin's embrace when they were finally alone.

He held her face in his hands, looking her over as if afraid to find some hidden wound he'd missed. "You're okay." It was a question.

"I'm fine now," she said.

"He didn't hurt you," Aladdin stated. "That was part of the deal. The only thing I demanded of him."

She shook her head. "I'm fine. Tell me about Agrabah. Tell me everything that's happened."  
He looked down, knowing she knew there were many things missing from his letters. Things he didn't want to burden her with when she was trapped in her own prison.

"We're getting married in a week, if you'll have me," he began, his eyes full of hope. He ran a thumb over her cheek, searching for hesitation. "We'll make this work, somehow. I love you and the kingdom loves you still. Your father hasn't changed his mind about anything."

She nodded, and he kissed her. He stayed with her until she fell asleep, unaided by spells this time, but still without dreams.

x.x.x

Other than the shroud of gravity over the kingdom, not much had changed ostensibly. The first wave of citizens had left to settle in the Land of the Black Sand, mostly young men with few family ties, traders looking to make a profit off the shorter routes that cut through the sorcerer's land, and some skilled laborers paid out of the treasury to work on contract for months at a time. Genie and Eden were considerably subdued, though they always tried to brighten her mood with whatever antics they could muster. Mozenrath's regular demands on their power did not seem to weaken them too much, but they would never tell her if they did. Their faces were shadowed with apology, as was Aladdin's, whenever they thought she couldn't see them. Guilt that they hadn't been able to save her or the kingdom from this.

It was her father who told her they all had to think differently, one night when he invited her on a stroll in the gardens. The past could not be changed, no matter what they believed they could or could not have done. The outcome could have been much worse. If Mozenrath had simply refused to help them, she would have been lost forever. If he had set crueler terms, if he had demanded the total capitulation of the city and filled its streets with black sand, if he had taken Genie and Eden as his slaves or drained them of all their power, if he had required Aladdin's death in exchange for her life…

There were so many possibilities that had not come to be. Hard as it was, the sultan reminded himself to be grateful for what remained every morning. At least he could still see his daughter half of the year. At least their people had not risen up in protest, and there were no plots to overthrow him and the commoner still betrothed to his daughter. At least the sorcerer had kept his word, which had been more than they had expected given the depth of his vendetta against them all. And with the construction of the first settlements on Mozenrath's land, there was a tentative hope beneath the fear, that perhaps this was a path that would strengthen Agrabah, not weaken it.

Gratitude. It was not a concept she could accept. She had always been a fighter, and even in circumstances where she was helpless to do anything, surrender did not come easily, if at all.

x.x.x

She had expected the wedding to be a false escape, laughter coated over a lie. An acted fantasy of celebration and joy far from her heart. But to her surprise, Aladdin had prepared the opposite.

There was still festivity, but it was not the mindless revelry of a kingdom looking for an occasion to feast and drink at the expense of its rulers. In the eyes of the representatives from each part of the city, old noble families and the major guilds, there was sympathy and thoughtfulness, and reservation of judgment. As the banquet began and Aladdin stood for his speech, he left no room for illusions around their circumstances. He was grateful for her life, even if he could only be with her for half of it. Their marriage was rooted in love, and because of that they would be strong enough to bear the years to come. He thanked everyone present for their support, and committed himself to working twice as hard for the kingdom's welfare when Jasmine was not with them.

The utter honesty of the day left her silent and contemplative by the time they retreated to their new chambers. She was quiet as he sat beside her on their bed and stroked her hair. She had anticipated this night with feverish excitement once, imagining what it would be like to have nothing between them, to be united with him for the first time as his wife.

Now her mind drifted toward the future she so dreaded. She would only be with him for six months more. Then she would be alone again. The next time she would see him after that seemed so far away, an infinite pattern of isolation and a slow path to madness. But it would not be infinite after all. Time would pass twice as fast for him. She would outlive him by half of their lives. And then who knew whether they would see each other again in the other world?

He brought her back out of the spiral of her thoughts with steady words, still candid and unadorned, but trusting and somehow still filled with faith. They undressed slowly as if time were not a concern, and he gazed upon her with the wonder and worship she had waited for since their engagement. Then time was indeed lost as he lay her down and gave her all of himself, drawing her out of the shell of her heart until she gave back what she could in return.  
He lay awake with her for a long time, holding her. His mere touch spoke of gratitude. She closed her eyes and wished the same magic to enter her hands.

x.x.x

The wedding present he had sent her was a gilded lyre.


End file.
